


Rendezvous in Blue

by bittenfeld



Category: T. J. Hooker (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:12:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1677716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hooker and Corrigan decide to become better acquainted off the job…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rendezvous in Blue

Sherry’s Bar is crowded tonight. Friday night and the thirtieth of the month, which means payday as well. A lot of the guys are here from the Academy Precinct, although clientele also gather from various precincts and county substations. Line troops and supervisors, blue-suits and detectives. Any robber looking for an easy mark would be stupid to try to take this place. Gun metal glints briefly beneath patrons’ jackets or tucked into jean waistbands; and alert eyes frequently glance about the dim-lit busy room, ready to note anything suspiciously amiss.

Sherry herself is working the bar tonight; three of the regular girls plus a new one are waiting tables. Over the loudspeakers hidden up in the dark ceiling corners rock-music pounds, but the TV volume and the whirr of electric fans nearly drown it out. It’s been a long hot Friday.

Conversations buzz in the air, the same ones as last night, the same ones as tomorrow: so what’s the word on the new chief, and is he going to keep his promise about proposing a better retirement package to the city council?... and isn’t it a goddamn shame that the Court of Appeals let that psycho killer off the hook just because his goddamn lawyer found a goddamn technicality – they should’ve talked with some of the guys in here if they’d wanted to heard the real truth of the matter… and there’s no way in hell the Sheriff’s Office is gonna whip the PD in Sunday’s football game, and here’s fifty bucks to back that up.

“So where’s Corrigan?” Vince Romano asks his table-mates, looking expectantly toward the front door, watching for the fourth member of their party to walk in.

Hooker is studying the froth on his beer. “He’ll be here. He said he’d drop by as soon as he finished the report on this morning’s 211 down at the Jewel Mart.” He draws a long cold swallow into his throat. “In fact, Junior, you oughtta be back at the station too. I told you I needed your report about yesterday’s auto theft on my desk first thing Monday morning, and I know you’re not done with it yet.”

“Hey, I said I’d have it done, and I will. Even though I’ve put in long hard days all week long, I’m willing to give up some of my hard-earned weekend and finish my paper-work tomorrow, just for you, Sarge.” The kid is bebopping to the rock-music, head and body keeping rhythm in his chair. He turns an eye on the third man seated with them. “Hey, Lieutenant, Hooker here is a slave-driver – I just thought you oughtta know.”

“Slave-driver my ass,” Hooker mocks with a playful glare , and wiggles said-portion of his anatomy in his seat to mimic his trainee across the table.

Pete O’Brien winks at Hooker. “Y’know, Hooker, back when we were rookies, I don’t recall we ever got to smart-mouth our supervisors.”

“No, we were expected to show absolute obedience, or face strict disciplinary measures. But Junior here wouldn’t know anything about that – back when we were rookies, he wasn’t even born yet.”

“I do too know about it,” Romano asserts. “We read about that period of history in school – the Spanish Inquisition, I think it was called.”

With a jerk of his thumb in the kid’s direction, Hooker exposes a long-suffering face to O’Brien. “See what I have to put up with twelve hours a day, sixty hours a week?”

O’Brien’s head shakes sympathetically. “Tough world, Hooker.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Romano drains his glass, then slouches back in his chair. “Well, maybe my attitude will change some day… in the far distant future… maybe when I’m as old as you guys…”

“If you live that long, Junior,” Hooker amends ominously.

“Hooker.” Sherry approaches their table, hands busy with the drinks on her tray, “Corrigan is upstairs. He said to tell you he wants to see you. Up in Room 4.”

Curiosity quirks Hooker’s eyebrow. “Wonder why he didn’t come by the table himself.”

Romano grins. “Maybe he got worn out doing your reports, and he’s taking a nap.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Hooker rises from his seat. “Hey, Pete, don’t let Junior drink my beer while I’m gone. I don’t think he’s old enough anyway.”

But the kid insists, “I don’t want your beer, Hooker. Stuff’s bad for you – I mean look what it’s done to your waistline, not to mention your brain cells.” Then before Hooker can riposte with a stinging barb, the younger man shifts a flirtatious smile to the woman, raises his empty glass. “Sherry, doll…”

She winks. “I know. Another guava / coconut coming up.”

“You got it, sweetheart. Thanks. Y’know,” he mentions to the lieutenant, “I think she likes me.”

“Yeah,” O’Brien agrees, “you probably remind of her of her little spaniel puppy.”

Hooker follows her away from the table through the obstacle course of tables and chairs and bodies in the subdued lighting. She nods to a stairway across the room by the telephone alcove and restrooms. “Up there. You know the way, hon.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Sherry.”

He maneuvers through the crush of bodies toward the staircase. Upstairs are a few rooms that Sherry rents out to private parties, or someone not in the mood for the shoulder-to-shoulder friendliness of the lounge, or a patron too drunk to drive home. A sofa-bed, a chair, a table, a half-bath. All the comforts of a budget motel.

Despite his comment of curiosity to his table-mates, he knows why Corrigan is here and why he didn’t drop by the table first. He’s guessed for some time how Corrigan feels about him, and no doubt Corrigan is pretty clear as to Hooker's reciprocation. Thank god they don’t actually partner together, or everyone else in the precinct would have figured it out by now too. In the locker room, the showers, the gym, he’s caught Corrigan’s dark eyes measuring him; and there’s more than just friendly acquaintance warming those eyes. Something subtly suspicious that definitely merits closer analysis. And no sharp-thinking cop should ever ignore suspicious circumstances that merit closer analysis. Especially when those circumstances involve dark curly hair, Italian eyes, and good sexy body.

All day today Hooker has sensed a little something extra, a gut feeling that Corrigan has finally decided to make a move.

Romano is a good-looking kid with the same Mediterranean sensuality and work-out-sculpted body. But he’s just that – a kid – and Hooker isn’t into playing adult games with someone who still has peach-fuzz cheeks. Corrigan… now that’s another matter. Closer to Hooker’s age – just a few years younger – with some life-experience beneath his belt. Old enough to know what he wants and how to go about getting it. And a room over Sherry’s Bar is as good a place as any to get it.

Room 4 stands at the end of the corridor. As Hooker passes Room 3, he listens for sounds of neighbors, but hears nothing. Good. He doubts that these rooms are soundproof, and if he’s correctly assumed Corrigan’s plans for the evening, they won’t want to be overheard.

Rap of knuckles on the door. “Jim, it’s me.”

From inside, Corrigan’s voice calls, “C’mon in, Hooker.”

Hooker opens the door. The main room is dark; the bathroom door is ajar and the light is on in there. Bare footsteps on linoleum floor.

Police Agent Jim Corrigan strolls out wearing only jeans, a towel around his neck, and a grin. “Welcome to my parlor, T.J.”

The illumination from the lavatory back-lights his co-worker’s half-naked body. With a smile, Hooker eyes the pleasing sight up and down, then pulls the front door closed and mentions, “I like your idea of happy-hour better than theirs.”

“Yeah, so do I… Y’know, T.J., I’ve been considering lately that we should get better acquainted.” Those dark eyes drink in the newcomer. “Today seems as good as any. What d’ya say?”

“I agree.” And shedding his wind-breaker, Hooker tosses it across the foot of the already-open sofa-bed, then tugs his holster from the back of his waistband and lays it on the table beside Corrigan’s snub-nosed Colt. He glances around the room. “Cozy little place you got here. Where’s the light switch?”

Corrigan shakes his head. “Uh uh. No lights. We need to… get acquainted… in other ways…” And so saying, he snaps off the bathroom light, swathing the whole room in late-twilight greyness leaking underneath the curtained window. Then strolling over to the visitor, he grips Hooker’s upper arms, and Hooker responds by gathering him into an embrace.

Without any hesitation, Hooker tilts his head slightly, leans forward, and matches Corrigan’s mouth as though intimacy between them is the most natural thing in the world. The kiss extracts a purr from Corrigan’s throat, and sensually he begins to rub his hands over Hooker’s broad back. Two muscular male bodies press together, face to face, chest to chest, crotch to crotch. Corrigan’s flesh is already bulging his jeans – Hooker can feel it through their pants, pressing into the right crease of his groin, can even feel the man’s heat radiating through the denim material. His own cock is still soft, but starting to awaken. Corrigan’s tits are erect too, and they rub against Hooker’s, with only Hooker’s thin shirt between thick torsos.

Then with a growl of need, Hooker grabs his partner closer to himself, urges Corrigan’s lips open, and plunges a curious tongue into an eager mouth. Corrigan needs no urging to start sucking strongly on the intruding flesh. As Hooker’s tongue explores the wet slickness of palate, teeth, insides of cheeks, excitement zags all over his skin. Corrigan’s bulge thrusts repetitively against his own, stimulating the other male flesh to engorge itself. Hooker moans surrender; sweat dampens his shirt-back and underarms.

For a little longer, Corrigan rubs against him, then pulls away and collapses lazily onto the bed, half-propped up on the pillows, legs spread comfortably. “You’re gonna have to forgive the lumpy mattress,” he comments. “I couldn’t exactly ask Sherry which room has the softest bed, without arousing some very unanswerable suspicions.”

Hooker only shrugs, with that familiar lop-sided grin. “Oh, I think we’ll be able to make do,” he assures. And sitting down beside the other man, he rests a hand upon a slender thigh, and begins to stroke.

Corrigan takes the caressing hand, and uninhibitedly draws it up to his crotch. Hooker’s cock squirms with excitement at the freely-granted intimacy, and his balls tighten. Suddenly his own slacks feel constrictive and he wonders how Corrigan can tolerate the confinement of the tight denim jeans. Corrigan presses his friend’s hand to himself, over the hugeness beneath his fly, the bulge of his testicles, down deeper to the base of his ass. Compliantly Hooker rubs him there, the underside of his balls, makes tiny circular motions directly in the perineal area.

“Ooh,” Corrigan sighs, squirming his hips responsively. His eyes close. “T.J., that’s good… oh, that’s real good… keep it up… please…” And he leans back further, spread his knees wider for Hooker to have more room to comply.

Willingly Hooker continues to knead the sensitive spot, then unzips himself with his free hand and pulls out his own expectant equipment; masturbates himself while still playing with Corrigan’s. The other man arches his back; pushes his crotch harder into the nice pressure.

He reaches for Hooker’s shirt buttons, unfastens them, then slides his hands to fondle hardened tits, grip the thickness of Hooker’s chest. Hooker opens the denim fly, and Corrigan groans as his sturdy cock, nearly twice normal size by now, thrusts up into the air. Urgently he pulls Hooker’s slacks down to get at that private flesh and reciprocate the favor.

“Jim…” Hooker whispers, and climbs to his knees over the firm muscled body beneath him.

Corrigan is smiling as he pushes Hooker’s slacks down to the knees, avidly appreciating the view of the other man. Hooker’s cock bounces slightly, half-erect, sticking out from his groin; the heavy scrotal sac jiggles between his legs. Then urgently Corrigan strips off his own jeans and undershorts as if he can’t stand to be clothed a moment longer. Hooker undresses too, enjoying Corrigan’s pleasure as the older man’s body is revealed – chest, belly, hips. Maturity has taken its toll on his physique, but Corrigan doesn’t seem the least bit disappointed.

Dark rose tits fringed with coarse grey hairs catch the younger man’s interest, and he reaches out curious fingers to explore the sensitive nubs. It feels good to Hooker, who looks down at the fingertips rolling the nipples around. Without warning, those fingers tug the tender little peaks, hard enough to elicit a gasp from their owner; and Hooker hisses an intake of breath as pleasure-pain needles through the twin focusses in his chest.

A little twinkle lights Corrigan’s eyes. “You into anything kinky, T.J. ?”

Hooker shrugs. “A little. Not as much as you – and I know you are, because I know what it’s like to practice suspect-control techniques with you. You like to inflict those extra few seconds of pain before you release me, don’t you? And I bet you get a hard-on from it too.”

“Yeah.” Corrigan isn’t the least bit ashamed. “Someday I think I’d like to practice some new baton techniques on you. I think that’d… really turn me on…” Even the suggestion is affecting his cock, lifting it up against his belly.

“I’ll just bet it would. Just watch it – if you’re not careful, you just might end up receiving, rather than giving.”

Ooh, I can hardly wait.” Corrigan is lying back now, naked, the towel spread beneath his body, one arm under his head and his knees open wide. Hooker’s fist closes around his friend’s cock, stroking it, teasing it. Corrigan moans and squirms his hips.

Hooker is naked now too. He leans forward, intently watching his manipulations of his friend’s flesh. Corrigan owns a heavy handful, and Hooker enjoys molding it, squishing it. His grip pulls the cock-skin down tight to the base, forcing the smooth shiny glans to expose itself to the world so he can admire it. “Jeezuschrist, Jim!” he reacts, “that’s thicker than our batons!”

The back of Corrigan’s fingernail strokes up and down the underside of Hooker’s meat. “So’s yours. Y’know, Hooker, I’ve thought about this for a long time, trying to decide how to seduce you.”

“I’m easy to seduce. All you ever had to do was ask, I’d’ve said yes.”

Now Hooker leans down to flick his tongue over the tip of the fascinating object. Corrigan sighs with the exquisite pleasure; reaches his own had deeper between Hooker’s legs to more forcibly stimulating his friend’s engorging sac. The wet tongue licks the soft inside of his thighs, tastes his balls; wet mouth sucks his testicles. A shudder races through Corrigan’s body. “… ohh, god, T.J., that’s good… _you’re_ good…”

Hooker’s own erection is reaching its peak. The excitement of this first encounter threatens them both with premature ejaculations. As he takes Corrigan’s cock into his mouth, Corrigan lurches involuntarily, trying to ram the eager flesh right down Hooker’s throat. Willingly Hooker sucks it hard, feeling it begin to pump again his lips, teeth, tongue; then ups Corrigan’s tension a notch by pushing a finger into his ass.

“Hooker!” Corrigan cries out loud, and squirms in delight, caught between a warm sucking mouth and a gentle probing finger. One hand digs into curly bronze hair.

Hooker’s finger examines him thoroughly inside. The tight rectal sheath is already greasy with lube – obviously Corrigan has thought of everything. A pulse throbs in Hooker’s penis beneath the other man’s friendly grip. A pre-sem bubble oozes down the channel and out the tip. Corrigan is starting to leak too; Hooker can taste the salty mucussy fluid as he tongues the little orifice.

From Corrigan’s spasmic build-up and shuddering breaths, Hooker senses that the younger man is about to shoot his load. Immediately he pulls his mouth away – at which Corrigan moans the loss – then drags the body beneath him away from the headboard to lie flat. Hooker lowers himself full-length on top of his partner, pressing Corrigan’s body into the soft lumpy mattress. Arms embrace sweaty torsos, lips explore slick faces, tongues twine sinuously about each other.

Between them, two pieces of swollen flesh rub and leak. Desperately Corrigan wants to hump, but Hooker’s weight won’t let him. He caresses Hooker’s tits again, pinches them, and Hooker groans in erotic delight. Then grabbing Hooker’s shoulders, he draws his knees up and locks his ankles together around the other man’s back so that his anus touches Hooker’s cock.

“Fuck me,” he whispers huskily. “Fuck me good, T.J.”

Teasingly Hooker’s glans plays against the tight little sphincter. “You sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes-s-s… I’m sure… Fuck me good and hard, T.J… shove it up me…” Corrigan begins to thrust his hips, trying to take the thick rod into himself, arms wrapped around Hooker’s neck to pull his partner’s head closer.

“All right, babe,” Hooker murmurs against wet lips as they kiss. He reaches down to pull the eager buttocks apart, stretching the sphincter open, then pokes his cock-head into the depression.

Corrigan moans. Hooker’s oozing pre-cum smears viscidly around the hole, then the rigid organ begins to force entrance.

“… ohh!...” Corrigan gasps and swallows anxiously. He lurches his hips, and the thing pushes in. “… oh, T.J.!...” he groans

“I’m here,” the other man whispers, forearms on either side of his partner’s tossing head. Pushes in, then pulls back a fraction, in again deeper, back out. Each thrust harder than the previous one, deeper into the warm greasy channel. The lube facilitates their copulation, allows the intruding prod inside without hard resistance. Hooker can feel his cock-ridge slide up and down the tunnel, rubbing back and forth over the lump of a tender prostate. Deliberately he massages the small internal organ, and Corrigan’s whole body quivers with the keen sensation.

Then a thrust unexpectedly deep and vigorous; and Corrigan gasps with the sudden pain, but the continuous pleasure overwhelms discomfort. “…oh god T.J., I’m gonna come!...” he whines in near-ecstasy, his own throbbing cock pulsing between their pressed bellies.

“Go ahead,” Hooker urges, and buries himself in the warm erotic suction of a tight ass. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Corrigan begins slamming down on the thick flesh each time that Hooker thrusts in, while their breathing grunts together as they pound enthusiastically. Rectal muscles loosen as the invasive cock rams inside, then squeeze the prod strongly as it withdraws. Obviously Corrigan knows how to work another man’s flesh to the limit.

Again they kiss, hungry lustful kisses. Again Corrigan twists Hooker’s tits roughly, then slides one hand up to Hooker’s nape to force his face closer; tongues intrude, demand.

Sweat rolls down hot skin, slicks their rubbing bodies. Corrigan’s prick is leaking generously now, and his heels dig into the sensitive areas of Hooker’s back over his kidneys. Hooker can hardly think straight, brain and body lost in a frenzy of pounding, gasping, cocks begging for release. Repeatedly his balls slap against the upturned ass beneath him.

Suddenly Corrigan cries out, a spasm ripples through him, and his anus clenches convulsively. Warm fluid spurts out of him in several bursts, smears their bellies as he writhes helplessly; caught in the throes of his orgasm, he clutches Hooker’s hot body tightly to himself.

The intensity of Corrigan’s reaction thrusts Hooker over the edge. The spastic jerking of Corrigan’s ass tugs his penis all sorts of delightful ways. His balls tighten, and he feels his own climax surging until it overtakes him. Uncontrolled pressure shoots his load into Corrigan’s body. Vigorously the older man pumps and pumps, ramming into his own wetness, pounding as hard as he can into the compliant ass. Two bodies locked together in powerful need, masculine need.

Until both are drained dry; and as the convulsions die away, Hooker pulls his sated organ out of the nice warm enveloping sheath, and collapses beside his partner. Both of them are sweating profusely, dragging breaths through air-burned throats, feeling adrenalin-charged hearts throb to catch up.

Stretching his arms over his head, Corrigan sprawls his legs out straight. “Oh god, T.J., that was really something,” he smiles contentedly.

Hooker lies face down, cheek against a heaving chest, arm across a semen-wet belly. “As good as you hoped?”

“Absolutely as good as I hoped,” Corrigan assures. “I’m glad you took me up on my invitation.”

“Nothing would’ve kept me away.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure – for all I knew, you might have already had something going with someone else, maybe Romano.”

A curly head shakes. “No, there’s no one right now… and as for Vinnie, I’d never lay this on him. For one thing, I’m his training officer, so it wouldn’t be professional; and for another, I like someone a little older. Plus, I don’t think he’s into this scene.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ll admit, Vince is a hot little number, but it’d probably shock the hell out of him if he knew what we were doing up here.”

“Speaking of which…” Hooker groans and flops over onto his back. “… we better get downstairs before O’Brien and Romano come up here looking for us.” With great effort, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up, then grins at his partner. “I’d hate to have them find us like this.”

“I agree.” But Corrigan makes no move to get up. Half-open eyes smile lazily at the seated figure. “You say there’s no one right now – would you like there to be?”

Hooker eyes his partner seductively. “Yeah, maybe. Who did you have in mind?”

“Oh, someone about my age, my looks, my terrific personality… my sexiness…”

“Your sexiness, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Momentarily Hooker considers, then shakes his head. “Well, actually I lied. There is someone.”

“Who?”

Hooker leans down, swipes a lick across Corrigan’s lips. “You. So, your friend’s gonna have to find his own lover.”

Corrigan looks faintly disappointed. “Well, tough luck, for my friend. However…” – he returns the light kiss – “good luck for me. C’mon, T.J., let’s celebrate. How about another round?”

“ ‘How about another round’ ?” Hooker mocks and swipes at a dark curly head, still panting and waiting for his heart to settle down. “Hell, I won’t be ready for a rematch like that for at least a week. I’m an old man these days – at least that what Romano keep reminding me every chance he gets.” Carelessly he smacks the flat of a hand across Corrigan’s bare hip. “Now, get up and get dressed, or I’m gonna let you be the one to explain to the lieutenant and Vince what we’re doing up here bare-ass naked. And if you’ve made a mess on the sheets, you can explain that to Sherry too.”

But Corrigan only shrugs. “Hey, not to worry, T.J. A well-trained officer is always prepared for exigent circumstances.” And pulling on the end of the towel upon which he is lying, he wipes himself dry, then rolls off the bed and strolls into the bathroom. Hooker’s admiring gaze follows the slender ass all the way, and Corrigan obviously knows it.  
* * * * *

Casting a curious eye toward the staircase where Hooker disappeared twenty minutes before, Romano surmises, “I wonder what’s taking them so long. You think Hooker and Corrigan are working on reports up there?”

“I think they’re working,” O’Brien mentions ambiguously, focussing his attention on the beer in his hand.

An impish twinkle sparkles in the young man’s eyes, and he grins at his lieutenant. “Yeah? Well, it’s about time. I’ll bet everyone else in the department had it figured out before they did.”

“Not many people would approve of two cops becoming… friendly…”

“Hey, let ‘em gripe. I think it’s great. Me, I love Hooker to death. I’d lay down my life for the guy. Although I don’t wanna do what Corrigan’s doing for him – I prefer someone with more curves. But him and Corrigan go together just right. That’s great.”

O’Brien looks up at the stairs. “Well, for a long time those two have needed something to get their minds off the streets after work.”

“Yeah, and I think they’ve just found it.”  
* * * * *

While Corrigan avails himself of the toilet, Hooker showers. Then stepping out of the stall, he dries off, and Corrigan takes his place.

Over the whoosh of the spray, Hooker asks, “Hey, Jim, what are your plans for the rest of the weekend, aside from the game this Sunday?”

“Nothing much,” Corrigan calls back. “Sleep, watch TV, think about all the muscles and ligaments I’m gonna strain on Sunday.”

“Well, how’d you like to do your ‘nothing much’ over at my place? My bed’s big enough for both of us… and the mattress isn’t lumpy.”

“Hey, sounds good to me. Then Sunday after the game, we can nurse each other’s bruises.”

“I can’t think of a better way to spend a weekend.”

“Neither can I.”

They dress again, straighten up the room to cover all evidence of their recreation, then head on back downstairs into the ambience of dim lights and smoky haze and the clatter of glasses and the crush of bodies.

O’Brien and Romano are still sitting at the table where Hooker had left them.

“So, the prodigals return,” Romano’s South-Philly accent greets. “We saved your seats.”

“Our seats, but not my beer,” Hooker gripes, picking up his now-empty glass. “You drank my beer, Junior.”

Quickly Romano raises innocent hands. “Not me, Sarge.”

“I drank it,” O’Brien confesses, obviously not feeling the least bit guilty. “Well, it was getting warm, and I didn’t know when you’d be back. Besides, all you said was not to let Romano have it.”

Hooker yields grudgingly. “So much for trusting one’s superior.”

“Boy, don’t I know that,” Romano agrees, then shifts his attention to the other man seated beside him. “Hey, Corrigan, was Hooker pushing you to finish that 211 report tonight?”

Corrigan shakes his head, as O’Brien summons a waitress to their table. “Nah, he knows I’ll finish it Monday. Hooker won’t give me any trouble.”

“You mean you’d risk Sarge’s wrath?”

A casual glance in Hooker’s direction. “He’s not gonna do anything. Beneath that gruff exterior, Hooker’s a real softie.”

Romano grins, and winks at O’Brien. “Oh yeah? Could’a’ fooled me.”

“Watch it, Corrigan,” Hooker warns, swiping O’Brien’s beer bottle to pour himself half-a-glass. “You’re ruining my reputation in front of my trainee.”

But Romano assures, “Don’t worry, Sarge, your secret’s safe with me that you’re really not the tough old bear you pretend to be. I won’t tell another soul… well, maybe just the whole Academy graduating class. But no one else – I promise.”

O’Brien is no help. “Hey, Hooker, with friends like us… right?”

“With friends like you guys, I think I’ll transfer to another precinct.”

Corrigan nudges him under the table. “Sorry, T.J., wouldn’t do you any good – we’d just transfer with you.”

Slouching back with his appropriated beer, Hooker can only mutter, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

* * * * * **FINIS** * * * * *

 


End file.
